


Whumptober 2020 - No.16 A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by Jakkuor



Series: Whumptober 2020 [16]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Forced to beg, Implied/Referenced Torture, jakk's gonna have a bad time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakkuor/pseuds/Jakkuor
Series: Whumptober 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948606
Kudos: 1
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Whumptober 2020 - No.16 A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Jakkuor is curled up in the corner of her cell, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Her hand aches from the bite and it’s taking all of her willpower not to scream. If Ta had just kept quiet and listened to her for five fucking seconds they wouldn’t be here.  _ She  _ wouldn’t be here. But now they’ve both been captured, and she’s going to get tortured, and Ta’s going to know the secret she’s tried desperately to bury since joining the Guild. 

“How nice of you to bring a friend along this time,” Solinar drawls. 

“We are not friends,” Syraa’tah spits, her tail puffing up as the Altmer approaches her cell. “Khajiit can buy  _ and  _ sell you, so you’d best release her or else!”

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He unlocks the door and looms over her for a moment before hauling her to her feet by her arm. She hisses, but he only chuckles, “I bet  _ you  _ would be fun to play with.”

“N-No!” Jakk has found her voice and stands, pressing against the bars that separate her from them. “Leave her alone!”

She doesn’t like Ta. The feeling is mutual; they’ve been at odds since Brynjolf introduced them. But there is no one in the world, not even Sryaa’tah, that Jakk would wish the Thalmor’s pain on. No one deserves it. Not like she does.

“Oh?” Solinar raises an eyebrow. “Look at you being all brave. Why don’t you give me one good reason why I should?”

“I-I-”

“Actually, you know what? Beg me for it.”

“Wh-What?”

“You heard me,” he smiles coolly. “If you ask really nicely, I’ll consider leaving her alone.”

Jakkuor swallows hard. She’s never really had any pride or dignity anyways, but it’s so demeaning. Still, if it means Ta won’t get hurt…

“Please-”

“If you’re  _ begging,  _ then why are you still on your feet?”

Jakk bites the inside of her cheek and gets down on her knees. “P-Please, don’t hurt her. She doesn’t deserve i-it.”

“And what would you rather I do?”

Her blood runs cold when she realizes what he’s getting at. He wants her to  _ beg  _ him to hurt her in Ta’s place. Wants her to  _ beg  _ to be savagely beaten and lashed half to death. 

“H-Hurt me instead,” she says quickly, more like one word than three.

“What was that? I didn’t understand.” His smile only grows wider.

She looks down to the floor, unable to meet his gaze as her eyes grow wet. Why is he doing this? He’s going to torture her anyways; why is he making it so much worse? “H-Hurt me instead,” she repeats. “P-Please.”

“I don’t know-”

“Please!” Her chest and throat are tight with panic, but she forces words out anyways. Jakk doesn’t ever want to see anyone go through what she has. Even at the expense of herself. “She h-hasn’t done anything wrong, she doesn’t deserve it!”

“And you do?”

“I… Yeah. I do.” Tears spill down her cheeks and she closes her eyes tight. She does deserve it, doesn’t she? She dragged Ta into this mess, if she’d just been more  _ careful,  _ they wouldn’t have been caught in the first place.

“Congratulations, you’ve convinced me!” Solinar announces smugly. Of course she has. He didn’t  _ need  _ to be convinced at all. He just wanted to hear her beg, and they both know it. She doesn’t bother moving, hanging her head as he locks Ta’s cell and enters hers instead.

“Jakkuor-” Ta begins.

“Shut it, princess,” he snaps before turning his attention to Jakk. “New armor, huh? Why don’t you get rid of it for me?”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbles, pulling off her gloves and beginning to undo the buckles and unclip straps with shaking hands. It’s easier to do it herself, easier to submit. Sometimes co-operating gets her less lashes.  _ Sometimes.  _ A chill crawls up and down her spine as she removes the armor, the thin long-sleeved shirt she wears beneath it doing little to protect from the cold of the dungeon.

“That, too.”

Jakk chances a glance at Ta, but bites her tongue. It’s less of a modesty issue - Jakk couldn’t care less about exposing her bare fur. Her scars, on the other hand…

But she does as she’s bidden, already so tired. She grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it up over her head, tossing it to the corner with her armor. She tastes bile in the back of her throat when she realizes Solinar’s eyeing her.

“You’ve filled out nicely. Finally found yourself a nice hidey-hole, then.”

Jakkuor doesn’t respond, clasping her hands in her lap. She’s grateful that Ta rarely wears the Guild leathers, even on their job together. If she had, Solinar would probably realize that they came from the same place. Jakk would have to leave if the Thalmor ever figured out where she was hiding. And it’d be back to living in the wilds alone, barely scraping together enough food to eat.

“Well, you know the drill by now,” Solinar gives her a pointed look.

Jakk does, unfortunately. She sidles over to the cuffs on the wall, remaining on her knees. She turns to face the wall and stretches up, resting her wrists against the cold metal, trembling. There’s a horrified gasp from Ta’s direction, and Jakk’s cheeks burn with shame. One of the last people she would want to know her secret is Ta - she can only imagine how this is going to be used as ammunition in their arguments now - but here they are.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Solinar takes his sweet time striding over to her. He knows she’s not going anywhere. She can’t. She can’t fight back. “My handiwork, of course.” 

A started whimper escapes Jakk at the feeling of his fingers on her back, ever so lightly tracing over the scars. There are dozens and dozens, far too many to count, but enough that the fur on her back won’t grow right anymore. It’s thin and patchy. Her trembling is worsening and she wants to scream at him to just get it over with before she snaps and tries to do something stupid.

He finally locks the cuffs closed around her wrists. She can’t stop shaking. She’s starting to wheeze again. She tugs at her restraints but there’s no point. There never is. 

“Now… let’s get down to business.” There is a smirk in his voice.

Jakk screams at the first crack of the whip, before he’s even hit her, unable to hold back her terror any longer. She’s ready to start begging for mercy, and it hasn’t even begun yet. She presses her forehead to the wall, silently pleading for a short session.


End file.
